


Lose Heart and Gain Wisdom

by Td03



Category: Danny Phantom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: After TUE, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disagree with Mione she'll pout, Dumbledore's Army, F/M, Forbidden Magic, Harry though is vindictive as hell, Harry's a loophole master, Harry's rather manipulative, M/M, No Angst, No Fenton Menace, No Identity Crisis, Rational Fiction, Soul Magic, There's a small chance for Tomarry, Time Magic, everyone knows he jumps off the Astronomy Tower to fly, moral compass Mione and the chessmaster Ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Td03/pseuds/Td03
Summary: June of 1995, the night of Estival Solstice (Midsummer), Voldemort's body resurrection ritual was successful. At the tail end of his duel with Harry Potter, the Priori Incantatem effect somehow spat out a boy who looked very similar to Harry. Though he failed in killing Harry, the link he required with the boy through the ritual allows him to possess Harry, and Voldemort had Barty Obliviate Harry of everything that has happened in the graveyard. None knows of Voldemort’s return, so the Order was not established again. The world carries on while Voldemort’s loose under the radar.The world doesn't just sleep though. Harry's busy too.Crossposted on Fanfiction https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10448722/1/Lose-Heart-and-Gain-Wisdom





	1. There's gotta be another way out

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, BloodiedCoreOfHope and Kimera20 for your suggestions and ideas that motivate me to start this story.
> 
> This is a refined version of the one I posted in ffn. Ao3 is where I post my works as strictly as it is, without any Author's Notes aside from "gratitude" and "this story + its ANs can be found in ffn where I am most active" section.

_._

_I was born tomorrow._

_Today I live_

_Yesterday killed me_

_._

Danny tried to keep his face blank. Wary green eyes met intense red.

"The timelines are infinite, my child," Clockwork said, "One branches out and merges with another. All natural, all as they are supposed to be." Clockwork explained and Danny listened tentatively. Desperately. He wanted to understand, and needed to understand, if he was really going with this. "My purpose is to make sure one dying timeline does not affect others to the point it can destroy it and leave a large gap that will prevent the universe's survival. I might set up several circumstances to make sure the best possible outcome to happen, and ensure the survival of important lives in another timeline."

Danny hesitated. He wanted to ask. But he wasn't sure if it was allowed. To be spoken or to be thought of. Clockwork smiled genially and gestured him to speak. "If you set them up — then, were they fated? Was it... was I, were we all manipulated to?"

"Of course," Clockwork answered in honesty, dark purple cloak billowing. "But the choice is always theirs, always yours. Free will is not something I, or Time, or Fate can control."

The truth made him relieved. "But you can set me up to make the choices you want me to choose." It also made him bitter.

"I can give them a little push here and there. I can speak to you, reveal about something, but I am not supposed to interfere directly between matters of life of death," the Time Master inclined his head. His tone took a grim turn. Danny felt bad for pushing.

But Clockwork knew he would keep pushing it, and Danny knew Clockwork was still humoring him.  _This timeline him_. "You're not supposed to." He parroted, licking his lip nervously. "You've said as much when we first met at your citadel. But you  _can_ , right?"

The Master of Time tilted his head, and his form shifted into an adult. "Samantha Manson, one. Tucker Foley, two. Jasmine Isla Fenton, three. Maddeline Vögel-Fenton, four. Jackson Fenton, five. Edward Todd Lancer, six. And yourself, if you insist on leaving this timeline for the sake of your loved ones, seven. Danny, it will come at a price. And you will have to pay 7 times." His red eyes glowed and darkened as he counted. "If I save you... It is not an easy matter."

"I... you already know I will accept no matter what, don't you?"Clockwork gave him a wry smile which he mimicked. "So, 7 times, 7 favors you mean?"

"Seven... did you know? It is the most powerful number in magic."

"Um," Danny blinked, "meaning?"

The time master put a hand on his shoulders. And Danny saw his eyes glowing white. "Time Out."

. o . 1 . o .

"Kill the spare."

"NO!"

Too late or just in time, his cry didn't matter as Cedric was caught completely off guard. The Killing Curse's flash of bright green was always accompanied with a subdued explosive sound Harry resented, along with the  _thud_ of the Unforgivable's victim.

It was so quick. The friend he had made was gone as if he didn't mean anything to—

Harry's body seized up and he tore his gaze onto Wormtail, who was holding his wand at him. He tried to move his legs but they won't move a long with his hands. He heard rubble grinding behind him and in no time, his chest was pressed againsts a scythe and his legs was seized by sharp-thorned vines.

Wormtail said some words – of praising and mocking which he ignored in favor of making sure the point end of the stone sytche didn't pierce the back of his neck. The place was foreign and at the same time familiar. The whole thing had a dreamlike quality to Harry.

He had envisioned the place over and over for an entire year. But this time he won't be waking up in whatever surface he had claimed to sleep on.

Now, Voldemort was really, actually  _looking_ at him.

Harry lost sight of him when Voldemort's frail, pathetic,  _homunculus_ body was plunged inside the heating cauldron. Punishment? Karma? Impossible. Harry had no idea what was happening but the manic gleam in Wormtail's eyes can't be anything good for him.

The short man roughly pointed his wand at something below Harry. It was long, and old, and – Harry glanced – it floated in front of a tomb with the name Thomas Riddle engraved on the slab.

_1880-1913_. "Bone of the father unwillingly given." The bone was set aflame once it entered the cauldron and the grayish liquid inside boiled.

"Flesh… from the servant…" Wormtail walked forward, turning his back on Harry to face the cauldron. What Harry would give to be able to reach the wand strapped on his lower arm and send the traitor's face burning on the fire. "Willingly given!" The knife on his other hand swooped down and cut his hand off, eliciting a scream from the rat animagi. It was his right hand. He was in pain. If Harry can get out from the scythe's hold he'd be at an advantage.

But his feet didn't budge one bit. And a jolt of fear ran down Harry's spine when Wormtail ceased his screaming and – with a silent  _scourgify_  – turned his knife on Harry.

"Blood from the enemy…" The knife grazed Harry's wrist vertically and he screamed. It wasn't a regular kitchen knife his aunt would threaten him with – it was a ritual knife, as hot as a dragon's breath and as sharp as the thinnest razor steel. "Forcibly taken!" Pain gripped his voice when he felt Wormtail carving vertical lines three times on top of the fresh wound.

The man backed away and flicked a drop of his blood on the cauldron, and Harry instantly felt a torrent of energy pressuring his entire body each time Wormtail dropped more.

"The Dark Lord… shall rise," the third drop incited needle-like shots on his forehead, "Again."

A thunder rumbled and the cauldron was caught on flaming fire. The rotten steel melted with the reddish water and slowly,  _excruciatingly for him –_ it morphed into a small embryo that grew larger, bigger. Black mist formed around it and the entire thing looked like some sort of distorted Patronus charm. Bones were forming as the  _thing_ skinned itself.

His loss of blood was making him delirious. It  _had_  to be. Let this be a dream, a vision, a foresight even not a reality. He just felt malaise all around.

He blinked. And the resurrected man was standing in front of him, his yew wand in a loose grip that will tighten in an instant when given a reason.

" _Harry Potter_ ," Voldemort whispered. His tone sounded as if he was hissing – and Harry would have mistaken it for parsletongue had he not watched the man's lips move like a human and not the reptile. Harry was close enough to see his eyes slitted like a snake's. Harry was close enough to notice that his skin took a reptilian sheen almost like scales.

The man looked down and waited patiently for Harry to follow his gaze. Once Harry saw the shock of yellow that were so  _so_ odd in the murky graveyard his eyes watered at the blank face gazing on to the dark sky.

Cedric looked awake – if petrified for no reason.

(No need to mourn. He's just part of the new statistics now.)

"He won't wake." He put his feet on one of Cedric's cheek to turn the boy's head away from them. "Not even if I want him to. Shame, isn't it H—"

Harry snarled. "Don't touch him."

"Or what? You would… you could not do anything, boy. You should feel grateful I did not subject him to torture and gave him a merciful death – One I am still deciding if you are deserving of such."

His face was so close Harry wished he could slam something – a Troll's club preferably – to his face. He could see his own reflection on the glassy red eyes. His parasitic form on Quirrell was blurry and fictional. Tom Riddle was too angelic. This man before him was like every horror stories he had ever heard given form.

Harry clamped on the foul words just waiting to spill at the tip of his tongue.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Oh yes, that is the whole point of this event, is it not? To lure you  _and decide_." He turned his wand to his side. "Wormtail!"

"Y-Yes, Master!" Wormtail stopped hiding behind a headstone –  _Mary Riddle_  – and bent down to grovel on the ground. How pitiful. So pitiful that Voldemort had always called him with his silly moniker – Wormtail – a name that symbolized how much of a coward he is and how little he can be of use.

"Give me your hand." When Voldemort caught a tight grip of Peter's recently amputated hand, he formed the necessary wand movement and watched as the spell he had created worked its magic. A body part cannot be conjured; there were too many things involved in its cellular level that Voldemort had never taken much interest in because he can simply heal his own wounds with his magic.

Yet he had invented a spell that can make a conjured hand of wood or steel to be able to function like a normal hand. It had to be connected to the recipient's own magic – so Wormtail's whimpering was another proof of how little magic he possessed.

There were nails scratching a chalkboard beside Harry's ear. To see Wormtail rewarded and the grateful look in his eyes – there was nothing more that he wished except to sic his godfather at the rat.

(Disgusting.)

Not Voldemort. No, he was Harry's. Harry wondered what the man will do but also doesn't want to find out and if he could just break this Angel of Death off of him!

"Cease your sniveling, Wormtail. This is your reward," before Wormtail can launch into another tirade of gratitude he had no patients for, Voldemort took his other forearm.

The Dark Mark was faded, it was barely there and only one who is familiar with it can recognize it. Voldemort pitied himself for letting it fade. But no matter, he thought, jabbing his yew wand at the skull and watched it darkens. The mark was not a simple tattoo, it was what linked him to his followers.

Voldemort placed the tip of his wand on his Dark Mark.

Harry jerked when he accidentally pricked his neck with the stone scythe.

Not seconds later his inner circle came one by one, donning their uniforms and masks. Do they think they still maintain their privilege? How arrogant, and presumptuous.

"…My followers," his statement caused them to cower. He liked to indulge their little delusion to thinking he trusted them enough to call them his 'friends' but after all these years… "Thirteen years, and I confess myself disappointed."

"My Lord, if I – if we had known—"

"There were more than whispers, there were signs I gave you to seek me and you are admitting that you are too foolish to work them out and needed it to be spelled out?!" He summoned their masks, ripping them from their faces one by one. "I gave you all the hints to bring me back should there something had happened – Lucius!"

The Malfoy patriarch flinched. "Forgive me—"

"Forgive you? You who instead of remembering the task I trusted you with, decided to claim being influenced under the  _Imperius_? How many of your wealth did you throw for the ministry to accept such a claim – for them to believe I can maintain the Unforgivable for decades despite the very nature of the curse? Tell me, Crabbe! Goyle! Macnair!"

He called the three of them – talented dark wizards who proved to be spineless – but only turned towards Macnair. Then without further ado he subjected him under the  _Cruciatus_ , the bright red glow erupting from his white wand. Macnair screamed loudly when it hit him on the chest, his entire body writhing. "You were with dear Bellatrix, were you not? That night at the Longbottom family. Tell me, did you follow Lucius' example?"

He broke off the connection for him to answer. "I-I did, My Lord, but—"

"No original thoughts! No initiative! One word of my regrettable lost and you chose to hide instead of keep up the fight – even letting my most prized fighter captured by the aurors.  _Crucio!_ "

Hot knives burned Macnair from the inside out because the Crucio was filled with rage. It was not satisfying. It was not pleasurable at all to punish someone who will only be a coward once again. Not that there will be a next time.

No, he had been pulled by a major setback. He needed to recuperate. Rushing in to continue the war would not do him any favor. He must keep quiet and make sure they won't spill anything.

Blood trickled down the man's nose so Voldemort raised his hand, breaking the connection before rendering the man braindead. Macnair stumbled down onto the ground and twitched violently. None helped. All of them knew to let him suffer in silence.

He contemplated in punishing the other three (and how pathetic that is – for only four of his inner circle managed to escape Azkaban and answered his summon) but decided to leave them be. He does not forgive, but they had children had they not? All were born around the year he had perished. Macnair, however, had no such excuse.

(The Killing Curse would suffice.)

"You'd kill the followers you tortured so much?" Voldemort turned to look at the boy who was brave and foolish enough to look at him in the eye. He could make out the fear, not needing to use Legilimency to know what his thoughts were at the moment. Jumbled, enraged, despaired.

But not desperate.

Voldemort sneered at the apparent confidence the boy have in himself, and he had the stone angel move its scythe to let the boy fell.

"I see you are not cowering in fear, such confidence must be put to test." He ignored his Death Eaters. They weren't important for now, no use other than witnessing the boy's punishment.

_I should kill you._

"We will duel," he said aloud, pointing his wand at the boy and forcing his body to move to his will.

. o . 1 . o .

To be subjected to the same spell twice irked him, but Wormtail's felt more like lead ropes; Voldemort's felt like stones molding around him as if he was going to go through a mummification. It's not a simple  _Immobili corpus_ and  _Leviosa_ chained together, Harry can still move his head, but the rest of his body was paralyzed.

(What kind of spell is this?)

"It's pure magic, 'condensing' like boulders to pressure you. Only one with great amount of control can do this. Unless you regularly lift giant stones manually like a silly giant, I don't think you can resist it," Voldemort said.

_I didn't move my mouth_ , Harry throat had gone dry.  _I got a verbal answer. Why?_

_The ritual. My blood._

_No._ Harry's body seemed to freeze and his eyes widened.  _It can't be._

(We're connected.)

"We're connected," Voldemort echoed. Harry was too stunned to take advantage when the man released the spell. The Death Eaters shifted uneasily, confused, but knew not to interfere or voice anything. "I had suspected that the ritual would result with a strong connection between us. It is not something I am sure both of us would stand to live with." He smirked. "So let's pick up our wands."

His heart was pounding against his ribcage. He flexed his fingers and his holly wand fell within his grasp from its holster inside his sleeves. It was something Professor Moody taught him.  _Always have your wand. But don't forget to assess your surroundings._

He'd been familiar with this environment for almost all year already. Now his eyes were only on Voldemort, who lets his own wand hang loosely between his index and middle finger. His entire posture was inviting Harry to attack.

The instant Harry whispered  _Muffliato_ – a spell he had mastered till he need no intricate wand movements involved – Voldemort shot a dark orange curse Harry couldn't recognize, wouldn't have been able to anyway as Voldemort cast it silently.

Harry remembered the jealousy he felt every time Tom Riddle showed how much he have had mastered wandless magic and silent casting. Things Harry couldn't do without intense concentration which he sadly lacked. So to cover it up he always used the  _muffliato_ spell so his opponents would only hear unidentifiable buzzing. And it can't be countered with an eavesdropping charm like the silencing charm.

_Just don't use it every darn time, Potter! Being predictable leads to death!_

"Not even going to start with a bow? It is a  _duel_."

Lectured by a terrorist. "I must have lost my manners somewhere that night." Without waiting for another scolding, Harry sprinted after Voldemort, a move that was never recommended or even thought of for a wizard and it paid off as always so far, catching his opponents off guard. Harry slashed his wand upwards, casting an  _expelliarmus_. A bull headed spell done right in the face like that was predictably blocked by a shield but Harry had casted it at an angle that it won't bounce off towards him, but instead it flew off and, as predicted, slammed into Senior Nott — old, probably the oldest, and most likely even more dangerous than Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eater was immediately knocked out backwards, his head hitting a headstone.

Nott's knock out startled the other Death Eaters to brandish their wands but a sharp glance from Voldemort prevented them from casting any spells.

Voldemort's shield was went to waste and Harry took advantage of his occupied wand hand. Harry cast  _Praemium_  but the awkward angle to maneuver around the shield made Harry miss Voldemort by inches.

"Can you even aim properly?"

"I can't use this wand properly with you here. Your face annoys me," Harry said bluntly.

Voldemort's next spell was as fast as lightning and grabbed his ankle. It slammed Harry to the ground. A great ball of fire formed right above him and Harry was forced to turn on his back on the ground to avoid it from scorching his head off. He pushed up his knee and jumped, and when he saw a flash or an angry green curse flying straight at him, he shouted the spell at the forefront of his mind. " _Trabem!_ "

Voldemort's jet of green light was stopped from its trajectory by the red light that blasted from Harry's wand — they met in midair — and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it, his hand seized up around it — he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to — and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold.

The golden thread connecting Harry's and Voldemort's splintered; though the wands remained connected, and a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web – like a cage of light.

(Heavy.) That was all Harry could get from Voldemort. That was probably all Voldemort could get from his mind too. His – their wands felt  _heavy_. It was a miracle he could even keep his body upright. Not just his wand, his bloody head too. It felt like someone was kneading his scalp and they don't know their own strength. He's having headaches. The scar isn't burning but the cage of light was blinding and the transparent beams felt as heavy as iron beams.

His feet dragged backwards for an inch and it hit a rock. He can't fall. If he fail, if he fall down now just because it's  _heavy_ Voldemort's killing curse will go straight to his heart. And he had a strong feeling he can't afford to break this cage. He just can't. It's important! It's important for… for…

A fuzzy blackness was creeping into Harry's vision and his shoulders shook in pain. He felt like passing out due to lacking oxygen.  _Help me_. He screamed silently. To someone. Anyone. Himself. Magic. His—

Darling, you can win!

Harry's eyes snapped open and his magic pulsed, and then some kind of blur regurgitated from the point of their spells' connection and the magic blew Harry and Voldemort and the Death Eaters off of their feet. The dome broke and the graveyard was once again plunged into darkness.

_Cedric_. His hand touched a frozen face, and Harry knew it was Cedric because of the yellow uniform.  _My glasses_. They fell. He didn't have time to look around like one of the blind mice. He thrust out his wand and yelled " _Accio Goblet of Fire!_ "

When his hand connected with it, he only had a single thought – (Free.)

"NO!" Voldemort yelled, but it was too late. Harry had apparated away along with Cedric.

"My Lord! Are you alri—"

"He's gone—"

"Idiots!" The Dark Lord hissed in anger and created a small gust of wind to banish the mist-like light fragments of the dome that had trapped him and the boy. The nerve — it was just a foolish  _Priori incantatem_! He had researched that wands of the same core can produce a priori incantatem when the two cast a spell against each other but he had not known that  _side-effect_ would nearly kill the casters! He needed to—

"My Lord! There's a boy!"

Shoving Goyle aside with his magic, he saw a boy lying unconscious on the ground, his features very familiar with the Boy Who Lived.

. o . 1 . o .


	2. I've been stuck in a cage with my doubt

_._

_Apples_

_Aren't_

_Always_

_Appropriate_

_Apologies_

_._

"Well, don't you seem upset?" His old transfiguration teacher spoke up from beside him. It was still so funny to him, to think that he was actually a professor alongside his old teachers. Old carcasses, they were.

The two of them were tending to the unconscious form of the half-Veela champion. The girl had been caught by Tangelas, plant creatures Pomona Sprout raised along with Hagrid for defensive purposes. Tangelas disguise themselves inside thick bushes and shot their vines to catch unsuspecting prey. The girl was lucky someone was kind enough to shot a  _Periculum_ for her ( _Priori Incantatem_  hadn't indicated the spell had came from her wand).

"I'm always upset."

McGonagall raised a brow. "It must be a new level of upset if I can detect a difference from your usual one."

Barty kept himself from schooling his expression. Old as she was, he knew she was trained to flick her wand in an instant. He wasn't risking his throat changing and suffocating with her freaky Transfiguration skills. "Acromantulas, Tangelas, Vileplumes, Arboks – you think Potter can stand up to them all?"

After fourteen years, her always thinking of Harry as 'Harry' made her mind think of James when he mentioned 'Potter'. McGonagall reminded herself that Potter senior was gone, again. "He stood up to half of those in his first and second year, I'm quite sure he'll come through."

"Through sheer dumb luck if the boy's words are truth!"

"He'll brave through it, Alastor!"

"He'll curse without letting 'em know anything, I hope! No use being brave if he ain't clever enough to live past it!" Barty growled slightly. For a second, he had almost slipped to say cunning instead of clever. Right to the face of the Gryffindor Head.

"I shall remind you he defeated a 60 foot long Basilisk before, he can survive this silly maze."

Ah, darn. He had forgotten about that. Potter wasn't one to brag at all, he found out fast enough and the Basilisk thing was either a very embellished tale or a very simple fact.

"It's just bad feeling, Minerva. Bad feeling."

He harrumphed – startling the half goblin professor standing beside him – and waited. Hopefully, the boy can die from the creatures he had smuggled into the maze. If not, the boy will surely be dead on his Lord's hands.

. o . 2 . o .

Harry wasn't particularly skilled in apparating, so he knew the moment he touched the cup he would be landing in a painful position – just not directly at the deadly bush that had a mind on its own and is currently trying to swallow him alive.

His hand was still touching the cup and the other with his wand.  _Where's Cedric's body?!_ A vine shot out and its barbed end nearly poked his eye out. Harry barely dodged so it merely skinned his forehead. His glasses had fallen from the sudden explosion when his and Voldemort's spell connected. His vision – blurry as it was – could barely make out his legs let alone his Cedric.

A flash of yellow appeared in the corner of his eye and Harry let go of the cup, using his right hand to grab it – a fabric, probably Cedric's shirt. He mustered up whatever power he had left and yelled out " _Crepitus!_ " The vines burst into ashes and Harry jumped away from it.

He landed on his back, and heard a loud and painful thump. Cedric's body, ouch.  _I can't continue_. Harry thought bitterly.  _I can't continue because of my lack of glasses_. He knew his bad eyesight was a weakness. He just never thought it would be fatal like this. He looked at the body beside him, the legs twisted almost unnaturally because of the graceless fall. He pointed his wand upwards and prepared to cast a red flair when, suddenly, his hand felt like they were frozen and bitten at the same time.

"Bloody hell!" His right hand was yanked by something down and his wand fell from his grasp. His fingers felt like they could be chopped off and he wouldn't even feel the blood spurting out. It felt as if he had stuck his hand in a freezer for years. It didn't feel like it was bitten anymo—

 _Shit!_ His left ankle was freezing. Icicles were forming on the skin and there was a telltale sign of a bite mark. He scooted away from whatever had bitten him, switched his wand to his left hand and cast a widespread  _Aguamenti_.

There, at a spot not far from him, shimmered a little cloudy white creature. Depending on the circumstances it could be a very cute ghost or a really scary one, and right now, it was very scary. Its eyes were beady and dark blue and its grinning mouth flickered in and out of sight. The marking around its eyes turned a lighter blue and its head became enclosed in a blue raindrop shaped structure. The little ball ghost's lower body grew and darkened like a strom cloud.

As soon as the comparison passed his mind, thunder rumbled and a stormy rain descended on the maze. The water hit him hard and Harry was forced to run away from it to –  _somewhere_ , it's not like he can clearly see anything!

Something long and thin shot out towards him and it was thanks to his experience in dealing with the Whomping Willow blind in third year that he managed to avoid the vine from wrapping around his neck. The dodge threw him off balanced though, and he slipped through the wet ground. He felt his back falling to hit the ground, and his elbow touch something hard and smooth and  _cold_  and — instead of the painful frostbites he had gotten, this time it felt like he had sunk his elbow into a grilling pan full of hot oil.

"Argh!" Its that ghost thing again! It bit him again.  _The storm_ , he thought. The rain will heal – abruptly, the rain stopped. Harry's vision wasn't filled with the cloudy gray sky anymore, now the sky is blue and bright and  _shit the sun_.

There's still some water left. The ground was still wet. He didn't have his wand, so he reached deep. He breathed deep and concentrated on the water around him. Wet, muddy, dirty—pure water. He felt his magic reach out to the water, surrounding it like it does to feathers when he needed to spell out  _Wingardium leviosa_ in first year, and he controlled them to wash over his blistering elbow.

He can't continue on fighting, not while he was blind like this. Harry needed to take the flickering creature out. An idea popped into his head, and without thinking any further, his good elbow pushed his body up and he ran close to the maze wall. He saw something bright and wispy from the corner of his eyes and he knew it has to be the ghost-like creature trying to catch him again. As predicted, another barbed vine shot out of the wall, and Harry threw his body weight down to the ground. He heard a squished sound, and something slimy and hot dripped onto his jeans – and he knew that the creature was now injured.

Harry turned his head, and he could make out its form now. It was no longer lighter blue, its skin was red and the raindrop covering had shifted to be a translucent orange orb, cracked open by the vine and the ball-like creature inside impaled.

He felt relief, then pity, then tiredness and then his body fell down to the ground.

(Black hair, male, if he has a pair of those green eyes I swear to Morgana—)

 _That sounded like Tom_ , he thought airily.

Harry knew no more.

. o . 2 . o .

Voldemort knew for a fact that no one had come here during his confrontation with Harry Potter. He had set up wards around the graveyard and the mansion to keep people out. He didn't want another muggle eavesdropper like Frank Bryce to decide he can pop into his domain all willy nilly. He hadn't put up a ward for portkeys considering that it was the way  _to_  capture Potter, but he should have put more caution and put up a ward  _after_  the boy had been teleported. Assured that the boy will die doesn't mean an absolute truth. Had he really lost his sanity that he could be so careless?

He had had the unknown boy put into one of his guest bedrooms. The Riddle Manor, as imposing as it was, did not have any dungeons. But he can keep prisoners in one of the many rooms inside and lock them up with wardstones. Lucius had apparated back into his office in the ministry, his door having been locked and his colleague believing Lucius has been working on his paperwork. Goyle headed back to his manor, same goes for MacNair. Crabbe had been quiet, but nothing unusual. Wormtail though, had been temporarily demoted to be Nagini's errand boy.

_$I shall eat him.$_

_$No.$ Tom repeated for what was probably the fifth time that night. The moment she spotted the boy she's been insistent on feasting on him. $I need to figure him out before I do – or let you do – anything permanent.$_

_$I have not have any decent meat.$_

_$That's because you laze about and order my minion around to get them for you.$_

_$Hmm…$_

_$Stop that, your thinking face looks painful.$_

_Nagini, as usual, continued on whining._

_$Fine, fine! I'll have Wormtail fetch you some plump rats.$_

_$I don't like that a rat is catching rats for me.$_

_$He's the only one dumb enough to do your errands.$_

His followers had flinched in fear – disconcerted after thirteen years worth of absence of listening to parsletongue. If only they knew half of what he talks about with Nagini, the whiny reptile. Twylusks were one of the rarest breed and most poisonous snake there is, but there were times when Voldemort wished that he had chosen another breed of snake.

And now he was alone in a room — Nagini having slithered off somewhere — with a mystery sleeping in the bed.

(Black hair, male, if he has a pair of those green eyes I swear to Morgana I'll reduce him to a corpse.)

The matter of the boy's appearance was disconcertening. He looked almost exactly like Potter. Everything from the lean built, to the height, to the pale skin and to the messy hair – everything but the distinct lack of angry red scar. This child's forehead was clean of dark magic. It was too big of a leap to assume that the backlash – the  _Priori incantatem_  – had somehow created a clone of the Potter boy but what else can explain this boy's presence?

If it's a Doppleganger though, it was an imperfect one. His magical capacity was miniscule, nothing as vast and wild as Potter's but not small enough to be a squib.

He dipped his head in thought. His plan to kill the Boy-Who-Lived had failed today. But there is still an opportunity he can take advantage of.

He won't be giving that old man any time to prepare.

. o . 2 . o .


	3. I've tried forever getting out on my own

_._

_I hate_

_this golden_

_warmth of hope_

_._

The tension was high, and people were very curious to see who will win everytime they catch glimpses of wand spells or shouts. Privately, Hermione was really disappointed in the last two tasks. The first one was really dangerous but she had fun, guiltily, but she still had fun. The second task and the third task don't show them anything else though. And she was getting tired of waiting around.

The watchers who were still waiting for the three champions began to stand up on their seats when rain started pouring down abruptly – mostly muggleborns, the purebloods (and the smart ones— _which included her, obviously_ ) merely casted a bastardized version of  _Protego_ above their heads to keep them from getting entirely wet (it was only to repel naturally falling rain so none exhausted their magic by casting it).

When her heart burst in sync with the thunderous clouds, she calmed herself.  _It was just a cloudburst_ , she rationalized,  _a sudden dump of large amounts of water when a warm air parcel mixes with cooler air causing sudden condensation_. She remembered from her summer classes.  _It has nothing to do with that shimmering spot there in the maze where Harry's probably having a battle with something._

Thunderous lightnings roared and the clouds decided they should drown people below with pelts of rain. When the rain suddenly stopped and the storm clouds  _diminishing that rapidly_ , she knew the sun wasn't shining naturally.

"Hey, Mione," she turned to the one of the very few people who called her with that nickname. "You reckon Harry's got something to do with the weather changing?"

"He's hardly that sort of powerful, Ron." Controlling the weather! She didn't want to think about it. "But, it wouldn't be the first time."

Ron glanced at her hand that wasn't occupied with her wand. "Are you seriously reading at a time like this? Merlin, Mione, you're obsessed."

"I have to take precautions against boredom for cases like this." And she had been hoping that the act of holding a book would tell people that  _no, I don't want to talk, can't you see I am busy?_ She cast a quick Tempus and noted that two hours have passed. A few people had left the stands to get snacks, and she had re-read this little survival guide book thrice.

Something stung her legs and Hermione bent down to slap at it. Turning over her palm she saw it was a dead mosquito. Lifting her head up she saw a horde of mosquitoes were currently stinging wizards and witches on the stands. Snapping her head to the direction someone screaming pointed she saw a bunch of dark green shrubs running towards the stands with chubby legs and big black shiny eyes. She only managed to identify the creatures when it shot three barbed vines to the stands.

"Move, Mione!" Ron pushed her body away and they fell down on the stands, tumbling over the students' who stood below them. The vines shot pass their bodies but looped on some of the seat planks and tore it away, effectively forcing the wizards who stood on top of it to jump down and flee.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione started, making her way over.

"Miss Granger, turn around!" Hermione complied and as soon as she did so a giant purple cobra burst out of the nearest maze entrance. Her book had fallen out of her grasp but not her wand, and she brandished it towards the cobra. She heard another hiss and saw that there were four more giant cobras coming out of the other maze entrance.

" _Bombar_ —"

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Hermione's wand flew out of her grasp and landed into Professor Moody's hands. "Don't bother shooting any spell at them missy. Their skin is as tough as trolls! And if you had managed that you'll only make them lash out in an instant. Despite their size, they're fast." He gave Hermione her wand back. "Now go back with the others!"

She turned her back and spotted Ron, so she ran towards him and the other spectators, all huddled together and brandishing their wands against the creatures – not firing under the other Professors' instructions.

One of the closest cobras stretched its mouth open.

"Professor Moody," Dumbledore's voice was low, but was heard by everyone there. "Please go into the maze and retrieve the other champions. Only you know where the Triwizard Cup is." The war veteran gave a curt nod and looked ahead at one of the entrance.

With the sun blazing like this, he could see the very end of the passages were swarming with tangelas, their chubby feet slowly tumbling through the path. A hairy stick-like leg shot out of a corner and followed by others, and soon the giant acromantula climbed up the maze walls.

"Now, Alastor!"

Moody knew Arboks were agile and fast despite their size, so he cast a  _Bombarda_ at the ground between two of the cobras and ran past it as the cobras were sent to the opposite sides.

The hairy stick-like legs belonged to an Acromantula. Despite their reputation, they aren't an active threat to humans. But if they're provoked, they will attack anything in sight, including their own kind.

The dark maze had done a good job concealing exactly how many Moody—in reality, Barty Crouch Junior had put into the maze. Barty didn't bring any of the bigger ones—only ones that was barely the size of an average eleven year old child, so that Dumbledore won't abject to using the creatures. The champions will definitely provoke them should they see one, registering them as a threat when they would have not have a care of silly humans passing by. But the rare creature Barty had caught in a purposefully isolated cave did its job in mucking up the weather and bringing out a bright sun.

Above all, Acromantulas despise the sunshine.

Barty prepared to shoot a hex at the acromantula and flee, but a snout filled with long fangs shot out of the same corner and striked at the plump spider's body.

Opposite to them, the Arboks were snakes who are easily agitated from lack of heat. And after being forced to traverse an ever-changing damp maze, of course they were going to come out to seek warmer spots, such as a clearing of dirt with many humans running about nearby.

Turning around from the acromantula and arbok Barty shot a fire spell at the wall on his left, creating a human sized hole and causing painful  _squeees_ of some Tangelas that were hiding inside the thick leaves. His coat flapped harshly by the sudden wind the remaining in-hiding Tangelas created, and he quickly jumped through the hole. His leg made it to the other side before the wall of leaves closes by dark green vines that were entwining together.

He threaded his way through the rather familiar maze. Hastily jumping through another burnt hole he was met with a wand to his face by the Durmstrang champion. Recognizing his appearance through his  _Imperius-_ ed mind, the boy lowered his wand.

"Find the Diggory boy." Barty latched onto his hold over the boy as he issued another command. "After an hour, go outside the maze with him and forget that any of this has happened."

The boy gave a gruff confirmation with a blank face, and walked away from him.

Barty cleared his head and tried to remember where his position is. Just three walls away from the Cup, if he remembered well (and he remembers very well). Sitting innocuously hidden nearby the Triwizard Cup's position, was a silver wristwatch Barty had charmed to be a Portkey.

His Lord had known about a creature that could affect and be affected by the weather; a power entirely dependent on its ever-changing emotions that the creature proved to be too troublesome to be utilized. It wasn't infallible, as it wasn't quite agile and easily got hit with an offensive spell, but since it's one of a kind the Magical Creature department of 1802 sealed it in an isolated part of a deep cave in the Forbidden Forest, charmed the walls to never let its sole residents to ever reach the outer lands so that it won't affect the weather anymore. Some were sent to study it but after three dozens were killed the cave was sealed shut and it was quickly forgotten as more exotic beasts decided to take up residence in the forest.

He had his  _Imperius_ –ed father cast a constant stream of explosive spells onto the other side of the cave to make way and as soon as Barty locked eyes with it he shot a sleeping spell at the creature before it started anything. He floated his charmed wristwatch to touch it and had it Portkeyed inside the thick bushes of a wall behind the Cup. It would stay asleep unless startled violently by someone. He had planned to get in the maze to wake it up but he supposed that Diggory boy that had disturbed it, considering Krum was still alive and the Veela had been taken out. Barty noted that the weather was still sunny, so the creature was probably dead by now. But the Portkey should still be in the coordinates he had set, and he'll use it to get to the cave and disappear from Hogwarts.

He didn't encounter many creatures, having most of them running outside the maze to wreak havoc. Just one more turn—

_Is that Potter?!_ True enough, this is the body of his student for the past year.  _What is he doing here? He's supposed to be dead by Master's hands at the graveyard!_ Potter was lying on the ground on his back, and there was some silver liquid on his jeans, perhaps a spilled potion. Just a far way's off, he caught sight of another body, the Diggory boy. There was a wand beside the body which Barty recognized it to be Potter's. There was also the Cup thrown on the ground. Meaning it had been touched; meaning Potter really had gone to the graveyard.  _Either Master let Potter go, or the boy managed to escape._

He performed a quick check on both. Diggory was dead, which was okay; Potter was not dead, which was not fortunate.

It was a strange sight to see his right hand and left ankle suffering frostbites under the glaring sun, but he guessed it was due to being an injury by the same creature that affected the weather to be this sunny. The boy's elbow was blistering with unnatural heat too, and all injured spots had indication of small bite marks. His sleeve was torn, bloodied from what is obviously a knife wound.

Barty let loose a mad grin, distorting Mad-Eye Moody's already disfigured face. Potter had undergone the ritual! The boy had given his Lord a new body!

Should he kill the boy? No. Silly Death Eaters would probably take their revenge immediately on the unconscious boy, but Barty knew better. His Lord would not be pleased if his minions killed him. The boy's life was for his Lord solely to claim.

Barty wasn't a healer – never got interested in the art at all – but it didn't appear that he would need to take out his stash of healing potions. The boy's own magic was already working on the wounds and it was quite fascinating to see it forming the skin back without any aid from potions or spell. So he simply shook the boy's head, just rough enough to wake him up. The boy groaned and attempted to sit up, but using his blistering elbow for it was a bad move. He collapsed back onto the dirt ground. "… Shite. Ancestors above…" Harry squinted. "Professor Moody?"

"Aye, Potter. You got some nasty bites there. Must be from one o' the creature I put inside here, eh? You're good to go?" Moody didn't wait for Potter to confirm. He yanked the boy's good elbow and had him stand up. Potter wobbled for a second before recovering.

Flicking his wrist, his Holly wand didn't come to his grasp. Harry could remember it falling off his grasp when... He looked behind him and saw a blurry figure lying on the ground. His throat hitched. He bit his lip and focused on calling for his wand as he can't see it with his terrible eyesight. A wandless (and wordless)  _Accio_ got his wand back in his fingers, and Harry conjured a pair of glasses. It wasn't accurate, but at least he could see better.

_Why didn't I make this before? I really need to keep a clearer head._

"I'm still in the maze? Why are you here, Professor? I suppose the third task is over?"

"You're correct on that. Most of the creatures got out and being trouble on the spectators, but Dumbledore's taking care of it. We better head out o' here and fix you, especially your wrist!"

"Wait, Professor!" Harry hissed in pain as Moody's fingers dug into the skin near the wrist Wormtail had slit. Pain blossomed on his forehead as the dripping blood threatened to take him back into unconsciousness. "This wound, it wasn't from the maze. Voldemort did it!"

Moody paused for a good moment before he growled menacingly. "Bloody Merlin, Potter, your sock's better not be lying."

"Why the bloody hell would I lie about him?" Harry scowled.

"Granted, you're the last person who would." Moody's wand twirled in a motion that Harry didn't know but committed to memory all the same, and after he finished the double flick, Harry felt a faint shimmering of the air around him, as if they were covered inside a translucent orb before it faded. "One-way privacy charm," Moody explained. "Not the one you know that blocked both sides' noises. Now, explain yourself, Potter."

"Cedric and I de—we touched the Goblet at the same time," Harry hurriedly explained before he start tearing up or something else Professor Moody wouldn't tolerate. "Someone must have sabotaged the coordinates because it didn't Portkeyed us back outside the maze, we arrived in a graveyard."

"A graveyard? Where is it?" Barty knew of course, but he had to pretend to be oblivious. It was surprisingly easy; Moody was never one to make any expression other than gruff, blank, and terrifying.

"I don't know where exactly. Though it wasn't my first time seeing it. I've never been there, but I've been seeing the graveyard and the mansion nearby in my dreams."

"Dreams?" Moody didn't have to fake a surprise.

"Yeah. I told Professor Dumbledore. I've been having dreams about it since summer. Voldemort was this deformed, baby-thing. There was Peter Pettigrew. And someone else who is actually Barty Crouch Senior's son." Moody fought the instinctive reaction to charm  _Obliviate_ whenever someone randomly recognized him. "Dumbledore can't figure out how he managed to stay alive though, or escape Azkaban." Harry continued.

"I'd be thrilled to see Crouch's face when he found out about his son. Heh, too bad." He added, hiding the satisfaction of knowing that his  _dear_  father had been forced to cock about the forest before finally getting put to death. "Good thing you told Dumbledore about this rather than keeping it to yerself. Then? What happened when you got there?"

"Voldemort had Wormtail kill Cedric." Harry quickly glanced morosely as he spotted the body on the ground. "Then he did a ritual. He needed my blood," he flicked his bloody wrist, "flesh from Wormtail—from his servant, and then his father's bone…" Harry recalled the brief glimpse he had gotten from the dark cemetery.  _Thomas Riddle. 18…_ He didn't memorize the year. "He got a new body, but he didn't look much human. His animal nature shown through and the body looked like a cross between a human and a snake." Harry shivered. "He got Wormtail a new hand made of wood, and it worked perfectly like a real hand. Then he called in his Death Eaters. Malfoy Senior was there, so too Crabbe, Goyle, and Macnair."

And now the Boy Who Lived had complete certainty that those families were really Voldemort supporters and not under the  _Imperius_  curse. Barty wondered how Harry managed to get away from most of the Inner Circle. "How did you got away then with being surrounded?"

"He wanted to duel. And Voldemort forbid the others from interfering. I took one out though. And delayed Voldemort enough to get Cedric and got away with the Goblet. After that it was just dealing with this ghost thing that could control the weather. Those plant walls impaled it though. That's it."

_You should have died._ "Good job knowing you were outclassed." _Or joined Master._

Barty almost slapped himself. Like hell Death Eaters would ever manage to work with the Boy Who Lived.  _Instead you ruined his plans._

Harry shot him a small glare at the jab of his competency, but conceded the point. "So is your wound still hurting?" Moody asked.

Harry grimaced and nodded shakily. He walked slowly to not aggravate his ankle and gripped his wand tight in his bitten hand. The one that had been bitten to the point of freezing. "My magic's not working on healing it fast enough. The last spell on our duel tired both of us out. I'll need a potion to kick it up." He looked at Cedric again. "We aren't going to leave him, are we?"

_I'd prefer that, yes._ "You levitate him. Come on. The ward is still up so we can't apparate. I'll bring the Cup." Barty ordered mostly to stall some time. He didn't know what to do after this. He was supposed to get out of Hogwarts now! The entire plan hinges on killing off the boy and letting the Ministry scurry around trying to find his dead body while his Lord prepares for the war.

"Okay, Profess—" Moody heard the boy whimper. When Potter began to wheeze in pain Moody turned around to find him clutching his head in pain. "Potter?" He clasped the boy's shoulders and observed the boy's form. His jaw was slack, and his chest tensed, and his eyes dilated. Something was wrong. "Don't tell me you need to rest—"

"Barty," the voice was soft and deep. Harry's eyes had tinted a crimson red. "This is your Lord."

For a moment, his fake persona that worships  _CONSTANT VIGILANCE_ wanted to shoot a blasting curse at the boy, but he didn't dare. "My Lord." Barty dropped on his knees but his head was still up to look at him. My God. His Lord could possess Potter? Amazing… "H-How…"

"Quaint, is it not?" Harry, or rather Lord Voldemort, smirked. "And the boy doesn't even know."

. o . 3 . o .

Ancestors above, how did he end up like this?

_$How come I cannot touch you? I cannot eat you so at least let me taste you!$_

Danny woke up to find a giant snake slithering on top of him with its snout near his face, and he instinctively turned intangible and the snake was now slithering through his untouchable body with its forked tongue trying to touch him in futile. He didn't turn invinsible, he just wanted to fly away, but his entire body was somehow stuck on the bed.

It was confusing. Danny tried to move his feet but while he could wriggle his toes, the part where his body was touching the sheets was unmoveable. But it wasn't paralyzation. Danny eyed the snake in wonder, how it managed to touch his transdimensional body and not get possessed. Not that Danny tried to possess the animal but shouldn't it be overshadowed by default already? He hoped it won't move pass his head, he didn't think he could stomach seeing its insides when his metaphysical eyeballs would be inside a live snake meat.

The animal was whiny too. Danny tried to speak, but a hiss slid out of his mouth as if he didn't have lips.  _$Hey, what time is it?$_

The snake made a  _really_ weird face, and it took Danny a moment to realize that it was  _thinking_.  _$Are you kin to the Harry Potter human?$_

_$I'm going to guess that's your friend?$_

The snake started trashing around.

_$Okay, okay, he's bad person, I get it. Geez, you don't have to be so descriptive about mauling this guy.$_

_$I do not like him! Master's Enemy!$_

_$Er, who's your master then?$_  It's so weird having a conversation with a snake that was poised right where your translucent chest is at.

_$His name is Lord Voldemort! You were unconscious and you smell like you are dying so I wanted to eat you before you are a waste but he told me not to.$_

It was a testament to Skulker's weekly threats of pelting his skin that Danny took this calmly. $I'll tell him thanks later then.$ Assuming he couldn't escape _. $What time is it? You know time right?$_

The snake's head poked up.  _$The sun is rising.$_

Ugh, dawn. It's a bad time to be alive for a ghost. Danny eyed the snake. He had never seen a real snake, only a ghost snake. He thought only ghost animals have the ability to talk, some exceptions at least. Like the Yeti Clan, or the guardian animals of Pariah's Keep. He was pretty sure this one isn't a ghost snake.  _$Where are we?$_

_$I did not care to remember the names of places. So pointless.$_  The snake dropped its head on the bed again.

_$Please don't sleep here.$_ He did not want to accidentally turn tangible and have a snake's body protruding in and out of his guts.  _$Uh, why don't you get your master?$_

_$Master is busy.$_  The snake chided. Then it slithered off the bed and out of his vision—he can't move his head fully sideways.  _$I shall see him anyway.$_

The snake's gliding body began to echo, and Danny figured it was out of the room and on some kind of hallway or large room. He turned tangible again and tried to sit up but his head was still stuck on the bed. But there was no glue! Not from what he can smell anyway. Maybe he'll get off if the bed's destroyed? Danny floated, and the bed floated along with him. He turned intangible again—without letting his powers affect the bed too—and passed through the roof. His eyes only managed to see concrete. Damn it! What kind of bed is this? He floated back down on the floor and tried to wriggle his way out again. Then his ears picked up footsteps.

" _Finite._ " Suddenly, whatever made his back stuck on the bed was gone, and Danny could move. Whoever was by the open door shouted, " _Incarcerous!_ " Before his eyes, ropes materialized and moved to bind his arms and legs. Eh, at least he managed to sit up. He turned around to see a short blond man pointing a… a wooden stick at his face.

"Hey, if this is some asinine attempt to recruit me for your evil mastermind's plans, let me tell you, I have an entire year dealing with that." Danny smiled benignly. The way this man handled the stick was like a weapon, like it's a magic wand or shit. He thought wizards only use staff. Granted he only saw Princess Dora's ghost wizards and witches and they were stuck in mediaval times. Maybe they moved on from the inconvenient weapon. Or maybe human wizards are just different. Oh yeah, different world. "Say, mind answering my questions. I have no idea where the hell I am!" Danny smiled brightly.

. o . 3 . o .


End file.
